


Have I Done Enough? - Lin-Manuel Miranda Adoption Fic

by Amorentia_Quibble



Series: Hamilton Story Series [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Actual OC instead of reader insert, Because I Can Ok?!, Other, Sometimes I just have to let myself do these things, Tw:Abuse, adoption fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorentia_Quibble/pseuds/Amorentia_Quibble
Summary: Ulysses Ciriaco, My name is Ulysses Ciriaco, and there's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait, just you wait...Hamilton is one of the only things keeping foster child Ulysses sane whilst in the care of the Hubert family, a classic nuclear-type family that took her in only because of the government benefits. But being able to escape to the park uptown has lead to her meeting many acquaintances, one in particular who's always sitting on the park bench...





	1. Mr. Parks

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Adopted By Lin Manuel Miranda](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/328179) by paige7667. 



> I quickly finished this today, so I thought I'd chuck it up here!! I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year, which means that for the next while updates will be either few and far between or entirely non existent. Hopefully all will be back to normal after November!  
> Wanna check out my novel for NaNo? The link's below!
> 
> https://nanowrimo.org/participants/amorentia-quibble/novels <\---- My novel!!!

_Ulysses Ciriaco, my name is Ulysses Ciriaco. There’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait, just you wait…_

 

I hum the line over and over in my head as I tidy my room, dusting off the empty shelves with my old phone in my pocket, worn earbuds stuck in my ears, only the left side actually working.

 

I was somewhat glad for it, because if it wasn’t, I mightn’t be able to hear the approaching footsteps of my foster carers. Yes, foster carers. I’ve been in the system my whole life, taken away after child protection services found me in a tin shed with two meth addicts. And yes, the meth addicts were my parents.

 

I only wished that child protection services would make another visit.

 

You see, for the last three years I’ve been living with the Hubert family, a nuclear type family who are mostly in the system to reap the benefits of government funding. The husband, Nevil, does some sort of Journalism job that always has him returning home in a huff. Edan, the wife, somehow has a job at a daycare, despite her very open hatred toward young children that aren’t her own. And then there are said children, precious little Agnes and Lars.

 

Agnes and Lars are their own leagues of evil. Lars is a year older than me, but half a head smaller, which he despises. He often likes to ‘Take me down a size’ or ‘pull me down a peg or two’ by kicking me to the ground or pushing me over. I’ve come to expect it more often by now, but if I ever do anything to retaliate he runs off to his older sister or his mother, and then I’m really in for it. Agnes is a year older than Lars, and she’s the real trouble. She’ll pull me around by my hair, dig deep cuts into me with her sharpened acrylic nails, and has thrown me down the stairs more times than I can count. Even when it ended up with me breaking my leg, she told her parents that I’d tried to push her and she merely ‘did it out of self defence’. I still have a scar on my shoulder where the father burned me with the butt of his cigarette that night.

 

Thankfully, by now I know how the game works. I do everything I have to in order to sustain  myself, keep out of everyone’s way and have peace and quiet and _safety,_ above all. The small park uptown.

 

It’s my place of escape, and with the small amount of money I’d saved from pocket money at my previous foster home, I’m able to buy the little bits and pieces I might need. I’ve even made a few friends out of the shop owners, and they’ll sometimes give me extra on the side.

 

No one really knows about my situation at home. I don’t go to school, Edan reminding me whenever I ask that I’d be an embarrassment to have associated with her darling children, and that she wouldn’t pay for me to do anything if it were a matter of life or death, so I have no friends my age. I’m often at the small town library where the lovely man there will give me books to read and helps me with the more difficult words and concepts I don’t know or understand. He even lets me borrow out one book a month for free, as long as I promise to come back at the end of the month with the book fully read and in good condition so he can be sure it wasn’t put to waste.

 

Tucked behind my shelf was this month's book, the Biography of Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow. The guy had a fascinating political life, and even if some of the language goes over my head at times, it’s a fantastic read.

 

And it managed to help me discover my love for musicals, in particular Hamilton: An American Musical. I didn’t know much about it apart from the songs, but ever since listening through it the first time, I knew I wanted to meet the people who created it, even if it was only once, just for me to say hello and thank you. Naturally, the chance of that happening was slim to say the least, but it was a hopeful dream that I kept in mind whenever-

 

“Ulysses!” Ah, duty calls. I quickly pulled out my earplugs and the phone from my pocket, sliding it under my bed and rushing over to the door, limping my way downstairs. My leg hasn’t ever been good after breaking it, a constant reminder of the bitch that is Agnes.

 

“Yes, Miss?” I questioned, standing straight at the bottom of the stairs as she came out from the dining room, cold brown eyes scanning me over.

 

“We have company coming over. I want you to disappear to wherever you go until 10pm, and if I catch sight of you before then, you’ll be hearing it from me and Nevil, you hear me?” She growled, her face right in front of mine now. I nodded quickly, her moving away from me and shooing me upstairs. I quickly rushed up and grabbed whatever I’d need, my phone and earbuds, my Hamilton Biography, five dollars in change, and my notepad and pen. I chucked it all into my satchel before making my way back downstairs, heading out the front door and walking some ways down the street before taking out my phone to check the time.

 

12 am… I had 10 hours before I could come home.

 

The walk to the park was about 15 minutes, me skipping to You’ll Be Back as I go. By now I know just about all the lyrics of the songs, and all of the King George III songs were too fun to not dance around to.

 

It didn’t take long before I reached the park, the last ‘da da daaa’ playing out as I sat under the usual tree. And, as I had expected, the man who always sat on the park bench was there.

 

I tended to call him Mr. Parks, a pretty unoriginal name, but I didn’t actually know his name, just that he was at the park almost every day, without fail from 11am till 2pm. The only day he wasn’t was Wednesdays, for a reason I hadn’t figured out yet.

 

Sometimes I wrote about him, just little short stories about what he might do for a living, if he was a retired cop who still worked as neighbourhood watch, and the park was one of his stops, if he was a botanist who was studying the plantlife of the park, or if he was just a guy who really liked the sun. No matter what it was, he was intriguing. He always sent me a smile and wave, but we’d never spoken. He always had his laptop with him, and sometimes he’d bring a picnic blanket and lay on that instead of sit at the bench.

 

Today was one of those days, headphones over his ears as he listened to something before typing something else, only noticing me as I looked over at him in curiosity. He waved as usual, me returning it happily as I pulled out my notebook and laid on my stomach in the grass, starting another silly story about the man.

 

This time, he was a musician, creating palaces from musical phrases, cathedrals from crescendos, magical lands from melodies. I almost wanted to make him the creator of Hamilton, just for laughs, wish fulfillment and such, but thought against it. I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up irrationally.

 

A few hours passed and I watched as he moved, rolling up the picnic blanket and grabbing his computer before he started to walk my way. This was different, he usually went the other way…

 

I got a little nervous as he approached, but took out my earbuds and sent him a smile, “I uh, I don’t mean to scare you, but I see you here all the time and thought I’d introduce myself. Is that alright?” He asked as he got over to me, crouching down a bit so we were on the same level. I nodded, reaching for his extended hand and shaking it, “Lin Miranda, but you can just call me Lin.” He said with a smile.

 

“Ulysses Ciriaco, if you can get a nickname out of that I applaud you.” I replied, to which he chuckled.

 

“Well Ulysses, it’s fantastic to finally make your acquaintance. How much longer are you out here for? You seem to always leave later than me.” He asked, sitting down in the grass instead of squatting.

 

“Uh… until 10. Maybe 9:30, but I try stretch it out as much as I can.” I said, to which he looked a bit shocked.

 

“Until 10? It’s a little dangerous to be out in the park that late, isn’t it?” He wonders, “I think I’d be too spooked.” I chuckled quietly at his response, but shrugged.

 

“That’s just the time I’m allowed to get back, and if I can keep it going any longer, I can. Besides, nothing bad’s ever happened to me at this park yet, so I think it’s pretty safe.” I told him with a reassuring smile. He still seemed a little skeptical, but trusted my judgement.

 

“Would it be too intrusive to ask why you aren’t allowed to go back… wherever, until 10 o’clock at night?” He asked. I thought on it for a second before nodding, “Ok then, and how old are you? If you’re ok with me asking.”

 

“15, sir.” I replied quickly. He chuckled softly before assuring me that just Lin was fine. I felt… very at ease around him.

 

“Well, I best head off for work before I’m late again, Groffsauce’ll kill me.” He said as he checked his watch, “Will you be here again tomorrow?” He asked, to which I nodded.

 

“Just about every day.” I replied.

 

“Well then, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Ulysses.” He replied before picking up his stuff and jogging off in the usual direction.

 

So I finally knew his name… Mr. Lin Miranda.

 

And just like that, I had another acquaintance.  



	2. Of all the people...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulysses returns to the park, grateful to have her new friend alongside her. Anything to stay away from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished another chapter! I'm actually really enjoying writing this, so depending on how much I manage to do in the coming days, I may get another chapter out. We'll have to wait and see!  
> Enjoy, you guys!

I ended up staying at the park a little later than ten, losing track of time as I laid back and watched the sunset, and then the stars as they appeared against the dark sky. They were a little hard to see with the streetlights, but prominent enough for them to dazzle me. Stars were one of those things that I couldn’t ever get bored looking at.

 

But, when I noticed that it was a few minutes after ten, I decided to get going back to the Hubert household, tucking my phone away as I walked. I had to be a little more cautious at night, even if nothing’s happened before, so no break up songs from century old monarchs tonight.

 

Thankfully, the walk back was the same as always, just me making my way back downtown, making sure my bad leg didn’t catch on the cracks in the path. It didn’t take too long for me to get home, no unfamiliar cars or people in sight as I slipped through the open front door, and up into my room, just in case the guests were still somewhere in the house. As I walked into my little room and flopped down into my bed, my mind strayed instantly to Lin, now knowing more about him. For some reason, ‘Lin Miranda’ sounded like a name I should have been familiar with, but I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe someone in town had mentioned him or something.

 

I remembered that I was still wearing my clothes and satchel, tucking the latter under my bed and deciding to just get changed in the morning. As I laid back down into your bed, I wondered if my new acquaintance would want to talk to me again tomorrow. He seemed kind enough, and seemed to be genuinely concerned about my well being when I said I was staying in the park till past 10. Maybe I could actually find out more about him, and with the next day being the start of the week, the children from hell would be at school, and their mother at work. Nevil didn’t care much about what I did, just wanting me out of his sight at all times.

 

I felt sleep overtake me, mind fantasising about what the next day might bring.

 

\--

 

The next day started smashingly.

 

Smashing in the sense of a fist smashing into the side of my head.

 

I barely get time to recover my senses as I’m pulled up by my shirt collar from the bed, Agnes looking down at me with her usual, sadisticly cold eyes.

 

“Mum wants you to get up instead of lying about all day, so I thought I’d give you a personal wake up call.” She sneered, before dropping me to the floor, “We’re leaving for school now, so if you wanna run away like the little bitch you are, wait until we’re out of the driveway.” And like that she was gone, leaving me with my hand clutched to my head, the room spinning. It took a few minutes to blink away the dizziness, but it disappeared eventually, just as I heard the car pull out from the driveway. 

 

Remembering that I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, I got up and quickly threw on a different shirt and pants, grabbed my satchel back from under the bed and headed out of the house, spotting Nevil out the back smoking a cigarette. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with him today.

 

This time as I walked, Story of Tonight - Reprise was playing through my earbuds, helping me push through the pain of my throbbing head. I even ended up humming the tune a little. Singing wasn’t my forte, something I’d never been able to practise. I couldn’t imagine how the Huberts would react to me making a sound that wasn’t a direct reply to something they said, and I didn’t have the confidence to practise in town anywhere. I’d considered singing in the park, since it’s always so quiet, and besides Lin and I, very few people pass through, but I never wanted to disturb him or anyone else.

 

Speaking of my new friend, I was surprised to see him already at the park, laying across the park bench with his laptop on his lap. I wondered if he’d mind me approaching, but the moment he spotted me he waved at me, grinning and beckoning me to come over. I obliged, limping my way toward him, watching as he swivelled himself to have the other half of the bench free for me.

 

“Ulysses! How are you today?” He asked, patting the spot beside me. I took the spot, moving my satchel onto my lap.

 

“Alright, my head just hurts is all...”

 

Lin fixed me with a concerned look, eyes scanning over my head as if trying to find an injury, “Oh, why so?” He asked, making me quickly realise that I had to think up an excuse. Me and my big mouth...

 

I hesitated for a few short moments, mind racing to find a reason that wasn’t stupid, but came up short, “I just… Just bumped my head is all. I’m clumsy like that.”

 

Lin didn’t seem to buy it, looking over me in concern, but he didn’t push it, “Alright, well do you need anything for it? Ice? A drink of water?” He offered. I shook my head, wincing at the dizziness the movement brought, but thanked him quietly, “Well if you need anything, just say the word and I’ll go grab it for you.” He said. 

 

I was a little shocked by his compassion, thanking him quietly as I pulled out my notebook, seeing what I’d written yesterday about the man. He went back to his own work, the quiet comfortable, not awkward.

 

“So what are you working on? Schoolwork?” He asked after a little while of working in silence, peering over at my notebook.

 

I shook my head, “No, I don’t go to school. I just write little stories sometimes.” I explained, “They’re mostly about you, actually. I don’t know much about you, so I make stuff up.” He seemed intrigued as I passed him the book, wondering what he’d think of it. Was it weird for me to have been writing little stories about him?

 

But his face lit up as he flicked through and read them, especially as he got to the last one, “Hey, you got it spot on with the last one!” He grinned, handing it back, “Those are really good, have you ever thought of writing as more than a hobby?” 

 

My mind was still caught on ‘You were spot on with the last one.’

 

“You’re a musician?” I asked, looking up at him in wonder. I couldn’t believe one of my little stories got something right! 

 

He chuckled, nodding before offering me his headphones, “Here, wanna listen to what I’m working on right now?” He asked. I nodded gleefully, sliding the headphones onto my head as he pressed play. I could see on his laptop that it was a song called ‘Almost Like Praying’, and as it played through, there were a bunch of artists singing in another language. It sounded like Spanish to me, but language was always a struggle for me.

 

“You wrote this?” I asked, grinning, “It’s brilliant!” Lin seemed ecstatic about me liking the song, taking the headphones once I slid them off my head.

 

“It’s to raise funds for Puerto Rico after the hurricane, I’m really happy with how it’s sounding. I’m just doing a few final edits and notes before I send it off to the publishing company for the last bits of feedback, then it’ll be up soon. That’s what I’m hoping for, at least.” He said with a smile as he put the headphones back around his neck.

 

I didn’t know much about other places, but I had vaguely heard Nevil and Edan say something about hurricanes recently. I just hoped the people there were ok, and anything Lin could do was admirable.

 

For the next few hours Lin and I talked, a little about his family and about growing up in New York, and I told him about being a foster kid. 

 

“A foster kid? Would it be intrusive to ask what happened to your parents?” He asked.

 

I shook my head, a bitter chuckle leaving me, “No, no it’s fine. They were meth addicts, I was living with them in a tin shed and hadn’t eaten for days when Child Protection Services found me.” I told him with a shrug, “So I just sort of pretend I don’t have parents. The nicest family I ever stayed with could only look after me for a year, and they said they’d write but they’ve never sent anything. I just have myself and a bunch of acquaintances.” I explained, not making eye contact.

 

He was silent for a moment before shifting a little closer to me, “What about the family looking after you now?” He asked gently. For some reason, it sounded like he knew, and when I finally looked up into his eyes, that seemed to be reflected in the way he looked at me too. There was a care and worry there that I hadn’t felt for a while.

 

“They’re definitely not the nicest family I’ve had, I’ll put it that way.” I sighed, looking away. He hummed softly, as if expecting that response.

 

“Do you have a phone?” He asked, me turning back around to face him.

 

“I do, but I can’t call or search up stuff or anything. I only have it for the music a friend gave me.” I replied. He seemed to think for a second before asking if he could borrow my notebook. I obliged, handing him it and my pen as he scribbled something down and handed it back.

 

“That’s my address. I live just down that road over there,” he pointed off in the direction he usually went when he left the park, “If you ever need help, please come get me. I’m not always home, but my mum’s staying with me at the moment while we finish up the show in the next couple of weeks.” I was amazed by his compassion, nodding and giving him a quick hug out of thanks. He returned it after a moment, softly patting my back.

 

When I moved back from him I recalled him mentioning a show, “Wait, what show?” I questioned, curious.

 

“Oh, it’s called Hamilton. I’m almost finished with my run there, I’ll be passing on the reins-”

 

“You’re in Hamilton?!” I interrupted suddenly, eyes wide. Lin chuckled, sending me a grin.

 

“I am! I’m Mr. Hamilton himself, and also happen to be the creator of the musical itself.”

 

I couldn’t believe my ears. This wasn’t a wish-fulfillment story I made up in the hopes of it one day coming true. This was real. The creator of Hamilton, one of the only things keeping me going day to day, had been ‘Mr. Parks’ the whole time.

 

“Of all the people… Wow.” I was in a bit of shock, my face feeling permanently frozen into a grin. Lin laughed, nudging me.

 

“You seem a bit surprised,” He said, “Did you not expect lil old me?” I laughed quietly, shaking my head.

 

“Not really, I just never thought I’d meet the person who made it. It’s one of the things really keeping me going.” I explained, “And even yesterday, when I wrote that little story, I’d thought of making you the creator, but didn’t want to get my hopes up irrationally.” 

 

He looked down at me, smiling sweetly as his hand fell to my shoulder, “Well I’m just glad I could do something to help you in your situation, Ulysses.” He said. I thanked him softly, my own hand rising to fall onto his own. We sat like that for a short while, feeling the calmest and safest I had in a while. Having someone who truly seemed to care sit by my side did wonders, and we barely felt the time go by as we started talking once more, now about Hamilton, about the other actors, the songs and how it looks on a stage.

 

Before I knew it, it was 2pm, and Lin had to leave.

 

“Sorry, kiddo, but I have to go if I don’t wanna be late for the show. You’ll be ok?” He asked, giving me a sympathetic look as he packed up his things. 

 

“I’ll be fine, and I have your address now anyway, so if anything horrible happens, I guess I’ll find you?” I said, though sounding uncertain. I didn’t want to burden the poor guy with my woes and troubles, he didn’t deserve that.

 

He looked back at me as he picked up his things and stood up from the bench, squatting down in front of me with his hands resting on my arms in support, “I meant it when I said to come find me any time. You’re in a horrible enough situation without people’s help, don’t hesitate to come get me, even if you’re not in immediate danger, alright?” I nodded in response, sharing one last hug with him as he jogged off, leaving me alone at his bench.

 

A cold gust of wind blew through the park, leaving me shivering as I wrote. This time Mr. Parks name was Lin Miranda, a music weaving genius who cared for a meek little kid named Ulysses in the park. It wasn’t much, but writing it gave me comfort. Seeing it in front of me made it feel more real, more tangible, when it felt like I was floating on air.

 

I quickly fell back down to earth when I arrived home.

 

Lars and Agnes tripped me up on my bad leg as I walked through the door, anticipating my return, before kicking me in the stomach and walking off to their rooms for the night. I managed to dodge their parents, but found the room that I’d meticulously cleaned the day before in shambles, bed sheets cut up and ripped, mattress sliced open through the middle, a few wooden frames in the bottom of the bed snapped into bits, as if someone had been jumping on them.

 

I didn’t let them annoy me, limping over and righting the mattress back into its rightful place, flipped upside down so the damaged side was face-down. The sheets were unfixable, but were all I had. I curled up with the tattered fabric gripped in my hands tightly, dreaming of a different reality, where maybe my parents weren’t neglectful and druggos, where they cared for me and nurtured me like parents were meant to.

 

For a moment I dreamed of Lin, the kind man at the park who had offered so much in such a short span of time, who’d shown me the most care of anyone in a long time, being my carer, the Huberts living their own lives somewhere far away where they could never hurt me again.

 

But that was just wishful thinking.


End file.
